


Skin Hunger

by Jeanemon



Series: Fear and Loathing in the Commonwealth [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Cute fluff time, Gen, No sexytime here, Platonic love is good love, Too much sad in other things, now there is just fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanemon/pseuds/Jeanemon
Summary: Physical and psychological well being can depend on physical touch.





	1. Friends take care of you when you're sick

Marcy Long, the insufferable bitch, had managed to get her sick with some post apocalyptic cold that she didn’t even realize she had. Vera couldn’t remember the last time she was sick of something normal let alone sick with a bug that her body had no idea how to fight. The first few days are the worst and make her want to curl up and die as she shivers so hard that she thinks her teeth will break from their chattering and her body cramps up so painfully she thinks the pain will kill her outright.

Codsworth does the best he can but there’s only so much a floating three armed robot could do when all the simple comforts she’d had pre-war are gone. No hot baths, no warm food, no one to tuck her into bed and crawl in with her after. The only thing she could do for comfort was curl up on the bathroom floor in all the blankets Codsworth could find and try to go to sleep.

“Ooh, there she is.” Someone says from above her before she finds herself being picked up, blankets and all. “C’mere, sweetheart. We’ll getcha taken care of.”

It was... Fuck, she didn’t remember his name. Handyman McBeefybiceps. Vera was in no mood to be picked up and carried anywhere by someone she barely knew and made her displeasure known by worming an arm out of her blanket and shoving at his face. “Go awaaaaay.” She groaned, going limp in his arms in her best attempt at somehow sliding out his grip.

Her efforts were in vain, Handyman McGee just kept walking. “Damn, she’s cold as ice. Wonder how long she was on the floor before that Handy came for help.”

Then there’s a pair of warm hands wrapping around her free hand and Vera nearly whimpers at the touch. She feels lips against her fingertips as he huffs a warm breath over her skin. “Nate?” Vera blurted out, tears starting to pool in her eyes. She knew he was gone, but maybe she was too? Maybe she’d died and he’d came back to lead her away?

“Oh, hon, no. It’s Preston. We’re just gonna get you taken care of.” A second voice chimed in, that sad eyed militia man from the museum. “Get you warm and comfortable so you can get this cold beat.”

Vera’d been cold for so long she didn’t remember what it was like to be fully warm. Preston didn’t let go of her hand as they moved somewhere where the wind blew less. “At least I managed to get most of the walls plugged up before now. You wanna try and warm her up while I haul water and get a fire started?”

“Yeah. Set her down, I’ll take care of it from here.” Then she’s being put down with more care than she thought these strangers should show and Preston is poking through the blankets to get to her. His smile is so kind when he finally gets her unwrapped. “Hey there.” He feels out her temperature against the back of his hand and hummed under his breath. 

“Gonna kill Marcy.” Vera shivered more now that the small bit of warmth she’d accumulated in her blanket nest was disrupted. “Kill her so bad.”

“Hey, now. It’s not that bad.” Preston was unbuttoning his jacket and unwinding the scarf from around his neck and before Vera could protest he pulled her in against his shirt, tucking the jacket around her back as best he could before pulling the blankets up over them again.

God be praised, he was so warm. Any arguments or unkind thoughts were culled immediately as she oozed as close to him as she could, hands scrambling against his back before they fisted in the material of his shirt. Her frozen nose pressed flat against his chest and she could feel him laugh as he tucked his chin against the crown of her head.

His hands started to rub circles on her back and this time Vera did whimper, shuddering at the touch. “You okay?” Preston’s hands stilled on her back like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line. When she nods against him he carefully goes back to stroking his hands up and down her spine.

She wanted to explain how good it felt to just be close to someone, anyone; how she’d laid down with blankets enough to keep her warm but also to weight her down with phantom limbs. All she can manage is a blurted: “I’m sick.”, and that’s no explanation at all.

But maybe it is, because Preston keeps holding her tight. “I know, and it’s awful to be sick. But we’re here to help.” There’s sounds in the background, someone puttering around doing various things. It was easy to ignore in favor of snuggling up to Preston’s chest and getting warm. “Me and Sturges would like it if you stayed here tonight, Miss. You need someone to watch over you.”

There’s a childish curl of anger inside her at his words, she’s an adult and didn’t need anyone watching out for her. A more reasonable tone smooths that over: She’s sick and cold, her options for sleeping at her house were the cold bathroom floor or the in the drafty living room on the couch, and these half known people are offering her warmth and companionship. There was nothing weak about admitting she needed help. “Okay.” She mumbled into his chest.

“Bed might be a tight fit for three, but we’ll manage.” Sturges said from somewhere behind her. “Here, got some soup heated up.”

Preston pulled away from her just enough so that he could get a hand out for the soup, bringing it into the warm cavern of blankets. Her hands shake bad enough that he has to hold the bowl for her. After a few near disastrous moments with the spoon she gave up on it, sipping straight from the bowl. Whatever the soup is made from it’s salty and earthy and the best damn thing she’s tasted since waking up, though it didn’t have much competition since otherwise she’d been eating radroach legs or pre-war irradiated goods.

When she’d had her fill of soup she pressed it back against Preston’s chest and he put it somewhere outside of the blankets. His hands came back in and pressed against her cheeks and he made a thoughtful noise. “You’re warming up.” And with that sweet observation he pulled the blankets down a bit so she wasn’t surrounded in a warm cocoon of love.

The room isn’t too cold though, warmed from a big fire bin in the middle. The hallway that lead towards the back of the house was blocked off with sheets of metal from a nearby derelict house, and the kitchen had been blocked off similarly. The far wall had been reinforced with pieces of the same metal so that no gaps were visible. In her life now gone being in such a small area with two other people would make her feel claustrophobic, but after being in the vault it felt spacious. Sturges was off towards the back of the room sitting cross-leggged on a mattress. When he saw her looking his way he smiled and waved before climbing to his feet.

“Awright, let’s unpack that blanket ball you’ve got going and get settled in for the night.” He ambled over and pulled the blankets from her. Vera whimpered again and clung to Preston.

Preston stood from the couch and hauled her up with him, her arms bracing around his back as his arms slipped under her behind to hold her against himself as he walked towards the bed. He gingerly slid down the wall and kicked his boots off. Sturges busied himself with laying the blankets out as Preston again pulled her to his chest. Any annoyance over being moved faded once she was comfortable again, and Sturges soon joined them under the covers, throwing his big broad arms around both herself and Preston.

Somehow, being treated kindly and cared for made tears well up in her eyes, she dug her fingers into the material of Preston’s shirt and sniveled pathetically. He started rubbing circles against her back again in sympathy. “It’s okay.”

She could cry, it was okay. She was sick, she was tired, she’d lost her whole fucking world. Sturges’ hand came up to stroke at her cheek, to wipe away the tears. “S’all right, darlin’. Won’t nobody here judge you.” He says like he knows what’s causing those tears. Perhaps he does, Preston strikes her as the type of man to bottle his sadness up like she does.

For the first time since waking up in the Vault she feels like things might someday be okay.


	2. Love is a secondhand jacket

The morning air’s chilly outside his little house, but Sturges warms himself up quickly with chopping more wood for the fire. There’s a lot he has to get ready, it wasn’t like Mama or the Longs could do the hard work right now. Preston was down for the count with Little Miss (Their little avenging angel hadn’t told them her name, and the Mr. Handy had just called her Mrs. Braun when he floated over and asked for assistance) and wouldn’t be up for a while. Pres had been ignoring the same cold that Marcy’d been fighting, and Sturges was happy to see him actually lay down and rest even if he was doing it solely to help Little Miss.

So that left him alone to get enough wood chopped for several fires. The Longs and Mama Murphy were holed up in an underground shelter below one of the houses. It didn’t have the most space, but it was dry and wasn’t drafty so it was better than loads of the places they’d stayed before. He brought the first load of wood over and sat it by the hatch, knocking twice to let them know he was there before he popped the hatch and climbed down.

“Hey there, Missus Long. You ready to help me patch up one of these houses a bit so we can get you and yours above ground?” Sturges asked as he tipped an imaginary hat to Mama and Jun. Marcy nodded silently and followed him out from the shelter.

It would’ve been easier with more people, but Jun and Mama were both under the weather and Codsworth was paroling the border of their little settlement. Marcy liked the looks of the house nearest the bridge, and it wasn’t too bad off. There was a mostly destroyed house across the way to pull materials from. “Wanna do it the way we did it at my place? Boarding things off with materials till we can get it all shore up?”

“It makes sense.” Marcy’s words are clipped short and spat out with force but Sturges understands why. Her manner don’t win her no favors with nobody, but people reacted to loss differently. Jun shut down and couldn’t drag himself up from the darkness, Preston bottled it all down inside and kept moving forward, Marcy dragged what she had left close to her and tried to keep it safe, and Sturges himself worked until even dreams couldn’t come. “How’s Preston?”

Sturges let out a little laugh and shook his head, that damn man. “Finally sleepin’ now that we dragged Little Miss over. ‘Cept he ain’t sleepin’ ‘cause he needs it, told him someone needs to keep her warm since she’s got hit so damn hard.”

Marcy’s expression soured at the mention of their newcomer, even with all Little Miss had done Marcy was still suspicious of her. “People don’t just show up in the nick of time like that. She could be a synth.”

“Not everyone’s a Synth.” Sturges rolled his eyes and smiled at her. “Besides, pretty terrible infiltrator if she gets laid down that low by one little cold.” He was also willing to bet that Synths didn’t spend their time curled up against a man’s chest and trying their damndest to cry quietly. “Thanks for the soup last night, helped not havin’ t’cook.”

Marcy nodded and went back to working in silence. As if summoned by the sound of construction the Handy floated over and offered his assistance. “Ain’t you supposed t’be on watch, Cods?” Sturges asked gently; the programming in Handies was always kind of buggy. Who knew if he actually could parse what they were telling him.

“Not to worry, Sir! I’ve attended to the problem on the hill quite tidily.” The handy enthusiastically said, spinning his saw around. Was that- Yeah, that was blood. “Those rapscallions won’t be bothering Mum while she’s resting.” He sounded almost sinister.

Sturges looked over at Marcy who looked back at him. Huh. “What’d they look like?”

“Oh, you know the type! Those dreadful toughs with the tattoos on their head! Now, how can I assist?” Sounded like gunners. Well, Sturges would just keep an eye on the old bot.

He seemed happy to serve, offering out purified water as soon as he was able to process it, wielding metal with his torch and sawing things with the saw. They were able to get the living room and kitchen mostly patched up. There’d still be some leaks in the roof but that could wait for another day. Marcy looked a bit more hopeful than she had in a long time as they pushed the old furniture around to suit the space. “Once we get Jun and Mama settled in here I’ll take care of the plants.”

There’d been a few behind the house Sturges had claimed as his own and a set of mutfruit bushes behind another house. Enough for a start, but he had dreams of tatos and corn and all sorts of produce. Some brahman too, maybe they could even get some bighorners. Caravans sometimes brought them this far west. “Good. I’ll check in on Pres and Little Miss then see if I can rustle up dinner.”

Codsworth floated behind them as they left the house. “Excuse me, Miss, but may I assist in any way? It’s so good to serve again.” The robot sounded wistful and it had to be terrible, programmed to help and no one to help.

She looked reluctant, but Marcy let him follow her back to the bunker. “You can help Mama up the ladder and over this way.”

Sturges grinned as he stepped back into his house, things were looking up. The sight that greeted him within was pretty damn good, too. Preston stood before the fire bin, back to the door and pants slung low enough on his hips that Sturges could see a strip of dark skin between them and the bottom of his shirt. Before Pres could move too far Sturges hugged him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Hey, you. How ya feelin’?”

Preston laughed and leaned back against him, guiding both of them away from the stove and the pot boiling on top of it. “Not too bad.” He looked better, that was for sure. Cheeks a little less flushed, the bags under his eyes didn’t look so heavy. “Started soup. Miss hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s breathing fine.”

“Good.” Sturges gave him a tighter squeeze and a featherlight kiss to the cheek before pulling away. This thing between them was new and blossoming and he didn’t wanna scare Preston away being all overbearing and lovey-dovey, but damn if he didn’t want to pull him close and never let him go. “Told Marcy dinner’d be our job today, so that’s good. Survivor’s special?”

“Yup.” Put whatever you got into a pot with some water and make it go around, it got the job done. “How’re things going?”

Sturges got him caught up as he knelt down beside Little Miss to get a check on her status. She’d been cold and clammy the night before but was almost too hot to the touch now. “Not too bad, got a house decent enough to get Mama and the Longs up above ground. Codsworth’s doin’ a good job of patrolling. Oh, hey there sweetheart. How you feelin’?” As he touched her forehead to get a feel for her temperature her eyes opened to stare at him.

For a moment she looked almost like somethin’ he’d seen in an old museum they squatted in once: with her big blue eyes wide and blonde curls framing a pink cheeked face she looked like an angel. That lasted for about two seconds before her eyes narrowed with suspicion and she glared at him. Little Miss didn’t respond with words, she just grunted and shoved back and away from him while she tried to sit up.

He backed off and let her get her bearings a bit before speaking soft and slow, hands up so she could see he didn’t have anything to hurt her with. “Hey now, Miss. It’s just Sturges and Preston. You weren’t doin’ so hot last night so we brought ya over and kept an eye on ya.”

She stayed silent for a few minutes, breathing hard and looking around the room. Sturges saw what was gonna happen a moment before it did, how her eyes grew a shade too frantic and wet before her face crumpled and her hands came up to tear at her hair. Little Miss started to sob as she curled in on herself and Sturges didn’t quite know how to fix this hurt. He sat and waited, almost reaching out once or twice. She bridged the distance between them, throwing herself at him.

“Hey there, now. I gotcha.” Sturges tucked her close and stroked a hand up her back. “I gotcha.” Little Miss huddled against him and kept crying until she literally cried herself out, going limp against him. Sturges sighed and tucked her back down into the bed, looking to Preston sadly.

“All we can do is try to help her out.” He said softly, sitting beside her on the mattress again. Preston got him to dole out two portions of soup in a smaller pot and leave it on the fire barrel when he took dinner over to the Longs, said he didn’t want her to wake up alone.

When he returns much later they’re both asleep, Little Miss all cuddled up to Preston. It’s pretty cute, he’s gotta admit. He joined them in bed and together they kept the chill at bay.

As usual Sturges is the first one up, he heads outside and starts in on his usual morning work. Hauling some water up to boil later, chopping wood. Marcy’s up and out as well and she helps him with stacking and the like. “If you’ve found a shovel I found some plants nearby I want to transplant.” She nodded towards the northern border of the town. “Some corn and carrot flowers.”

“Always good to have more in the garden.” Sturges agreed, heading back to the carport where he’d started to gather tools he’d found. Marcy got her shovel and started out north, shadowed by Codsworth a moment later.

Sturges chuckled and went back to chopping wood. A few minutes later the door to his house opened and out walked Little Miss herself, garbed in Preston’s coat. It was amusing to see her wear it, it nearly hung to her feet. Sturges stopped his work and leaned on his axe, grinning at her. “Hey there, sweetheart. Feelin’ better today?”

Little Miss stared at him with narrowed eyes before her mouth screwed up at him. “Where the fuck is your coat.” She asked, voice low and rough as she wrapped her arms around her middle.

Well, not everyone could be perky and amicable in the morning. “Well, it weren’t so cold when we left Quincy.” He said mildly, not offended by her manner. “And we left in a hurry. Ain’t found one yet.”

That made her think and she gestured for him to follow her across the street to the house that she’d claimed as hers. “Help me get the attic access open.” She said, pointing to a nearly indistinguishable hatch in the ceiling tiles. Sturges hefted her up without a thought, making her squeak. Still, Little Miss got the tile pushed up and she crawled up. He could hear some grunting and attempts to move something. “Ugh, I can’t get it. Get up here if you can fit those broad ass shoulders in the hatch.”

“I can shimmy through anything, don’t worry.” Sturges assured her, dragging a mostly intact bar stool over to climb up. The attic was lit by her pip boy and was filled with old steamer trunks. For a moment he marveled at it and wondered how it had gone unraided for years, but if Codsworth could dispatch gunners he probably kept this place well guarded. “Whatcha need, hon?”

Little Miss is crouched near one steamer trunk, hands stroking almost lovingly over a brass nameplate that read Геннадий. The letters are weirdly blocky and don’t make sense, they don’t spell anything. “This one’s got somethin’ that’ll fit you and Preston, probably. I’ve got winter clothes up here, we can get something for Marcy and Mama and Jun too.” She tapped another steamer trunk, this one labeled Ве́ра.

The trunks are both heavy but Sturges got them both down, coming back up to make sure Little Miss could get back down. He found her elbow deep in another trunk, fishing around for something. She found what she was after: a gray ushanka with a white fur interior. She pulled it onto her head and grabbed a few other articles of clothing from within: a dark gray wool coat, a scarf, and a pair of jeans. When she closed the steamer trunk she did so with a reverent manner, leaning to kiss the nameplate on that one. Воля.

“C’mon, I’ll help you down.” Sturges promised, hopping down first and holding his arms up for her. She dropped down and he swung her around once when he caught her, hoping to make her laugh or at least smile. Bein’ in the attic had made her mood drop pretty bad. He gets a small smile before she pushed away from him.

The big chest is a goldmine when she pops it open, quickly grabbing a picture frame from the top and burying it deeper before Sturges can get a look at it. But under that’s sturdy clothes, kept safe from moths and the elements. Whomever had owned this was a big bastard, the coat Vera hands to him is both too long and too wide. But it’s well made and thick. “If you wanna drag this over to your place I’ll sort it out for you.” She offered. “This one can go over to Marcy, even though she got me sick. I don’t want any of it.”

He dropped the big crate over in his house and Vera returned Preston his coat. After that Sturges ran the other steamer trunk down the way. Marcy was pretty suspicious of it, but once it was opened it offered a bounty of clothes. Some were pretty small, but the jackets and sweaters would work well. “This is nice. I almost don’t want to touch it.” Marcy smiled at the feel of a sweater, the yarn still soft. “What we can’t wear we can trade off for sure, it’s all in good shape.”

“Don’t say our new friend never did nothin’ for us.” Sturges waggled his finger at Marcy and she scowled at him for just a moment before returning to sorting through the trunk.

Back at his place, Little Miss and Preston have gotten almost to the bottom of the trunk. “There’s a few more of his stuff up there, and I’ve got more of my stuff up there. You see a nameplate like that and you’re welcome to it, but only you two.” Little Miss curled on the couch hugging the picture frame to her middle, already lookin’ a bit unsteady from the exertion of dealing with things. “You helped me, and he’d be happy his stuff was being used.”

Preston catches his eye and raised an eyebrow, from the way she was talking it was like she knew the people who’d lived in that house and owned the things in the attic. And it was pretty odd she knew how to find the attic hatch. He could explain it away as her living there and somehow getting Codsworth to think she was his age old mistress, but it still sat odd. “Who’s he, sweetheart?” Sturges asked as he picked up a pair of gloves. Really, ‘he’ must’ve been huge. They were too big for either him or Preston.

“My older brother. He died in the protests.” Little Miss said in a matter of fact manner, her face oddly blank. “But you’ve got no idea what I’m talking about.”

“No, but we’d like to hear you explain it.” Preston sat cross-legged on the floor, another ushanka in his lap. “What protests?”

“The war protests in Boston.” Again with the matter of fact tone. “I was away in Canada when it happened, mopping up the Resource wars. Gennadiy was shot in the protests and Volya got shot when he went after the guy that shot Genya. But you don’t believe that.”

She had to be cracked. Before Sturges could say anything placating Preston spoke up. “I saw you go toe-to-toe with a twenty foot lizard. I can keep an open mind after that.”

Little Miss took in a shaking breath and laughed a bit. “God, I think it’d be easier if you just told me I was crazy so I could get mad and storm out, but. We went to Vault 111. You know anything about Vault Tec?”

“Nothin’ good.” Sturges said darkly, he’d heard all manner of awful things come out of Vaults.

She nodded with a humorless smile. “The vaults were never meant to save anyone. Vault 111 is a cryogenic vault. We rushed down and the blast doors closed just in time. I saw the blast hit Cambridge. They had us go into these pods, called ‘em decontamination. Then they froze us.” She swallowed hard, face screwing up a few times as she spoke. “S’far as I’m concerned, the bombs fell about a week ago.”

As if to prove her point she turns the picture frame around to show it off to them. There in the middle is Little Miss herself, a pretty little pre-war dream, with a man that looked so identical he had to be her brother to one side and a towering hulk of a man to her other side. “Gennadiy.” Her voice is almost musical when she says the name, pointing at the big man. “Volya.” She pointed to the man who looked so much like her before pointing to herself. “And Vera. Here we are. Only place we’re together anymore is in pictures.”

“Aw, Hell.” Sturges mumbled, moving over to the couch and wrapping her up tight in a hug. He’d have to see more proof before he really believed her, but for the moment she made a pretty good case. And if she was really telling the truth, well, then she needed a goddamn hug. Little Miss, Vera, wrapped her arms around him tight. “So you stumbled out of the vault and the first thing you did was come pull our asses out of the fire?”

Vera actually chuckled, though there was a damp spot forming on his shirt under her face. “Not the first thing. I spent a day or so in the vault getting things together, then I went down to Concord.”

Preston joined them on the couch, throwing an arm around her as well. Vera made a little squeak that he assumed was a happy one. “Well, we can forgive you for waiting a day or so to show up in the nick of time.”

“You believe me?” Vera’s voice brightened up, she sounded excited and hopeful. “I know, it sounds crazy. It’s even more crazy to live it, trust me. We can- You want to turn this place into a home, right?” She pulled her arm out from between them and held her pip-boy up. “There’s mattresses and stuff in the vault, supplies. I can get you in.”

There was an infectious quality to her enthusiasm. Preston meets his eyes over her head and grins. It’s good to see hope growing in his eyes because Sturges was getting too used to seeing despair there.

Vera made good on her promise a few days later, leading Preston, Marcy, and Sturges up to the vault. She fiddled with her pip-boy for a minute or two before the platform descended down into the darkness. It was a creepy, poorly lit place but it was filled with things they could use. Like she’d said, mattresses and supplies and all sorts of things they could tear apart and reuse.

She hadn’t been lying about cryogenics neither, they find rows and rows of pods filled with freezer burnt corpses. At one row Vera stops at the threshold, looking shell shocked. She reached out and grabbed Preston with one hand and Sturges with the other, walking down the row with a apprehensive quality to her. At the far end there’s one open pod and across from it is a pod flecked with blood on the inside.

Preston’s brow furrowed as he worked things out. On the way back from Concord she’d said a few things about herself, that her husband had been murdered and her baby stolen. So that would make this... “Is this your husband?” Preston asked softly and Vera nodded, staring at the corpse with a hard expression on her face. Sturges isn’t sure if she’s trying her hardest to hold back tears or if she’s angry. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Vera’s tone was brusque but she squeezed both of their arms tight. “I... I want to leave, thanks.”

Dinner that night is at the Longs and the mood all around is pretty damn good. Mama sits comfortably in a chair while the rest of them sprawl on mattresses pulled from the vault. “See, Kid? It ain’t all bad.” Mama drawled to Vera who sipped soup out of a vault tec mug. They’d salvaged some near pristine silverware but she still shook when holding anything too heavy.

“Could be worse.” Vera agreed. “Found a pretty good crew to run with.” She smiled over at Preston and winked.

Mama sighed and put her bowl off to the side, stretching her arms out. “Okay, kid. I promised you the sight.”

“Mama, no, not that again.” Preston frowned severely. “Those chems are gonna kill you.”

Mama shook her head and took a hit of jet. “Quit fussin’, Preston. She needs the help. And we need her.” Her voice got deeper and more grave as she spoke, her head rolled back a bit. Sturges had only seen Mama use the sight once, towards the end of Quincy when she told them to leave. Vera tipped her head to one side and regarded the old woman with narrowed eyes. “ _Diamond City holds answers, but they're locked tight. You ask them what they know, but people's hearts are chained up with fear and suspicion. But you find it. You find that heart that's gonna lead you to your boy._ ” Vera’s eyes go wider, like she’s not quite sure to believe what’s being said. Mama gasps and her voice sounds joyful. “ _Oh, it's... it's bright. So bright against the dark alleys it walks. That's... that's what you need to do, kid. Follow the signs to the bright heart._ ”

Mama shuddered once and gripped the couch, continuing on. “ _You're looking for a man. He can help you, but he ain't gonna be the man you expect. He's somewhere... deep... and dark. Surrounded by folks with nothin' but cruel intentions. But there's... an echo... Something in the past that can help you. When you meet the fat man, and the angry woman, tell them to "remember the Quarry and Lilly June on the rocks", and they'll let you and your friend pass_.”

Jun and Marcy were both looking uncomfortable, Mama’s last prophecy hadn’t been nearly so long. Mama coughed and shuddered and Preston went to her side, but Mama reached out with a speed that she’d never exhibited before, grabbing Vera’s wrist and yanking the young woman towards her. “ _I see you surrounded by outstretched hands. Everyone needs your help, kid. Everyone wants you to see things their way... And whether you want it or not... You're gonna have to decide which ways of life keep going in the Commonwealth... and which end..._ ” She’s nose to nose with Vera as she finishes, falling back limply on the couch. Vera scrambled back and rubbed her wrist.

Once Mama got her breath back Vera stood and walked over, gently pressing a kiss to the old woman’s forehead. “Thank you. I appreciate you doing that. But please don’t ever do that for me again.” She stood up as tall as she was able and there was steel in her eyes. “Diamond City. I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always headcanon that the vault's a lot bigger than it was in game, because why would Vault Tec take such a small sample size? When I see one person in game I kinda multiply that by five and it gives a more realistic population size, especially in big towns like Diamond City.
> 
> When Vera's brothers were shot, Nate had their things brought and stored at the house with the idea that eventually she'd go through all the things when she could. I'm sure he'd be happy she's working it all out two hundred or so years later. She'll give her stuff away, and Nate's stuff, and Preston and Sturges (And later Danse) can wear Genya's stuff. But no one but her will ever wear anything of Volya's. That's not a wound that will ever close.


	3. I've got your back

The world sucked in different ways than the previous state she was used to. There weren’t any more riots or energy wars or corporations slaughtering people for profit. Now it was just hunger and fear and radiation that leeched down into her very bones and exhausted her. It was frustrating to see Preston dealing with life so easily when even the ambient radiation in the environment knocked her on her ass.

“Hate this.” She muttered lowly as they moved south towards the ruins of Cambridge. “Feel like I’m holding you back.” Even if Preston claimed it wasn’t so she knew it was true. They had to take more frequent breaks so she could rest, they were going through their supplies of Rad-X more frequently because of her state.

Preston, though, wasn’t hearing any of it. “Nah, not at all. S’nice having someone watching my back.” He was so strange, kind and gentle despite the world he’d grown up in. He’d told her once that the world was cruel enough without people adding to it so he did his damnedest to put some good into the world. It was a noble idea that she admired but didn’t fully understand. Kindness was a weakness.

But something about him was so endearing that she didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, she wanted to watch his back and help with his burdens. That’s why she’d agreed to help him with his fools’ errand of the Minutemen like an idiot. But so far he hadn’t steered her wrong and had taken time and energy to help her accumulate to this world.

He notices her feet stumbling over the underbrush and calls for them to make camp. They find shelter in an old filling station, locking themselves in a back room once Preston checked for any hostiles. “How’re you doing?”

Vera checked her pip boy and narrowed an eye at her radiation level. Higher than she would’ve liked in the old days, but not enough to kill her. Probably enough to start losing more hair, though. It’d never been thick, but now she had a few bald patches. “I’ll hold.” She said, fiddling around with the wrist computer for a bit. “You want to listen to the radio or anything?”

“Yeah, mind tuning it to DCR?” Preston was rooting through his bag to pull out supplies. Vault 111 canteens filled with purified water from the purifiers Sturges had gotten set up (Preston was right, the man could make something out of nothing) and a glass jar filled with some kind of brown leathery objects. “Marcy sent along some of the fruit leather she’s been trying to make. Think she sent it because she knows you’ll be honest.”

Ugh. Fruit leather. Once upon a time, lifetimes ago, Mama had gotten into this terrible health kick and they’d had all manner of disgusting organic flavorless bullshit. She’d gotten a bit too big for her britches and insisted Papa obey the diet as well, and Papa put that to stop quickly. Mama’d had to wear sunglasses for a week. “I’ll be brutal.” Vera assured him, taking a canteen and a few chunks of fruit leather.

It stuck to the insides of her teeth and in every single cranny, but it was sweet and oddly floral. Mutfruit for sure, maybe some melon blossom? There’d been a few melons in Marcy’s little garden, those might be in there too. Vera tried to keep her face neutral as she reached for another few pieces but Preston’s grin made one spread on her face. “Okay, it’s pretty good.” She admitted, ducking her head a bit to hide her grin.

“It’s a good way to use up produce that’s going to go bad and it stores well for travel. Might have to see if I can pick up any seeds or seedlings when we stop in Diamond City. Traders can bring them, too. Marcy might not be good with people, but she had the best damn garden in Quincy.” Preston’s smile drops at the mention of the town and his perceived failure there.

Well, that wouldn’t do. Vera scooted over to his side and tuned into DCR, tucking herself up to his side in a manner she knew he wouldn’t refuse. That was one thing she’d noticed about the companions she’d made, they were always down for a good cuddle. Fantastic for mental health and sharing body heat. “I wonder if there are any real tomatoes out there.” Or onions, or leeks, or all manner of vegetables that were now just memories. 

Great. Now she and Preston were both upset about the past. Vera made an annoyed sigh that caused Preston to slip an arm around her tightly. “Maybe we’ll find some someday in an old vault.”

“Maybe.” Vera snuggled up despite the sour smell of Preston’s coat. “We’ll find some onions and cucumbers and vinegar, and I’ll make you the best summer salad you’ve ever had.”

Preston chuckled, scratching her back through her vault suit. Nice. “Since I’ve never had summer salad yours will be the best by default.”

Such a sweet man. She really wished she could give him everything he ever wanted. Vera fell asleep tot he tunes of DCR and Preston’s level breathing.

\--

“I swear to God himself, if I have to listen to Uranium Fever one more time today I’m going to break that DJ’s neck.” Vera snapped irritably as she fiddled with her pip boy. They’d had a full day already, getting stopped for quite some time at a greenhouse populated by robots and having to fix their water problems. Still, it was a good source of produce and the robots seemed willing to give what they’d grown to humans. It’d make a good settlement.

That didn’t change that Vera stank of mirelurks and fetid water and was in no mood for the same twenty songs on repeat. “You can turn the radio off, or sometimes you can find a station that just plays classical music. No one knows where it comes from.”

Classical music would be acceptable at this point. Vera pulled the dial around, getting a somewhat weak signal. “Maybe this one?”

Nope, not classical music. A serious woman called out for help in a repeating message, listing their location as the Cambridge Police department. Vera listened to the message and flipped her pip-boy off before continuing to head south. If she remembered right there should be a bridge this way, and that could take them across the river...

She made it a few steps before she realized Preston wasn’t following. Vera sighed and looked over her shoulder at his serious face and stance. “You want to help them.” She stated flatly, knowing the answer before she got it.

“Help at a minute’s notice.” He said softly but with an odd quiet strength. “You know where the police station is?”

Of course she did, had to pick Volya up there once or twice after he got his stupid ass arrested for being unable to hold his liquor. She didn’t want to tell him where it was, didn’t think that running in after idiots was a good way to spend their day. She’d say that, and Preston would counter with her diving into the fire to help himself and their settlers, and once again she wouldn’t have the heart to tell him she’d initially only joined with them because she was angry the raiders shot her and because she knew a group of civilians would be easy to manipulate.

“Yeah, c’mon.” Vera growled, changing her path to follow the road east. Preston fell in step beside her and he radiated pride. Sometimes Vera got the feeling that she was his pet project, dragging her forcibly into being a decent person. Well, he wouldn’t be the first. May he succeed where Nate failed.

The sound of laser fire and shouting greets them when they sneak up to the CPD and Vera’s glad they’re crouched down low to the ground because that makes it a lot harder for the ghouls rushing the station to see them. Vera looks to Preston in a last minute sort of ‘You’re sure we’re doing this’ manner but Preston is already hopping up and climbing the exterior barricade to shoot off of it.

Whelp. That left her to tear around the corner, knocking a ghoul on it’s ass as she ran into the fray. In front of the BPD there’s the unmistakable silhouette of a suit of power armor and the man barks out a warning that there were civilians on the perimeter. Right. Civilian. That was her now.

Preston calmly dispatched ghouls, she tore into them like they were personally responsible for her winding up in this hellhole. Power Armor guy called out warnings from time to time and eventually they worked through all the waves. She herself would yell out angrily from time to time. Eventually no more ran through the gates or twitched on the ground. She took a moment to breathe while Preston climbed down.

That was when Power Armor decided it would be the perfect time to start barking out orders, demanding to know who they were and why they were there. Preston might have stood a bit taller, but Vera’d been barked at by much bigger bastards before. She pulled the rags she’d been wearing on her head away from her face and glowered up at him.

Time to mock the man in the big suit with the big gun. “Gee, I wonder why we’re here?” Making her eyes as wide as she could she dramatically gestured at her Pip-boy before turning it on and playing the Scribe’s message. She let it play twice, watching a bit of a flush grow on the man’s face. “Preston, my dear, why did we come here again?”

“Because the Minutemen come when help is needed.” Preston smiled over at her, actually looking proud of her. Well, if you set the bar low enough even tripping got you to cross it.

“I hate you.” She said flatly and Preston grinned, knowing she was just being cankerous because she could. “We were passing by the area and Preston is trying to get me into the whole ‘do good’ sort of thing.”

The man looked like he was having a little bit of a mental fight in his own head before he relaxed just a fraction. “Thank you for your assistance. f I appear suspicious, it's because our mission here has been difficult.” Well, at least he wasn’t too much an asshole. 

Apparently he was part of the Brotherhood of Steel, she raised an eyebrow at Preston and he nodded slightly. She’d get an explanation later. They nailed down the specifics of the next day’s plan: Preston would continue on to Diamond City to meet with traders and Vera would accompany the ‘Paladin’ on a trip to try and get parts to fix their radio transmitter.

Vera and Preston bunked together behind the front counter and he got her caught up with what he’d heard about the Brotherhood. After she was caught up on that she tucked herself in to Preston’s side and went to sleep.

They said goodbye early in the morning with Preston heading east into the ruins of Boston while Vera and Danse head west. Danse isn’t big on talking and that’s fine with Vera, she’s got a whole two friends and doesn’t feel the need for any more. The big guy is cautious and they make it to Arcjet without any problems.

Vera tried to remember what they’d been researching back in the day but came up blank. He again gave her terse orders, and if he hadn’t been paying her she would’ve taken issue with that. As they walked through he pointed out destroyed security robots.

The cause of their destruction was in the next room, walking somewhat humanoid robots that tonelessly shouted at them. She initially hung back and watched Danse dispatch a few before darting in and shooting in the same areas to take them down. At the end of the fight Vera prodded one of the robots with her boot.

“What are these things?” Frankly they were impressive, they had none of the retro charm of protectrons but were surprisingly advanced for something apparently mass produced in this hellscape.

Danse didn’t seem to like her admiring tone. “These are Synths. Automotrons created by the Institute to do their bidding. These types are basic, but the current generation is able to replicate and replace humans.” With a dramatic flair he raised one large boot and crushed the head she’d prodded.

Apparently Arcjet had been working on rockets, which was pretty awesome. What was not Awesome was getting ambushed by a literally platoon of Synths when they restored power to the lift. “Do something!” Danse yelled as Vera reloaded her shotgun. “Restore power to the rocket!”

“That’ll met your armor, dumbass!” Vera shrieked back, pulling one door shut and using it as some cover. Whenever one got too close to her she’d pop out and shoot it, otherwise with all the lasers flying she was a sitting duck. 

Danse was getting overwhelmed and they were running out of options. “Get close to the door!” She shrieked again, not moving from it until he did. “I’m gonna try to engage the rocket, you dive in here when I give the call! Steel can’t withstand the temperatures this thing can put out!”

“Affirmative! Waiting on your signal!” God bless military men that could take a fucking order.

Vera moved back into the room with the big button, watching through the window at the Synths moving down the stairs. One got close enough to the glass she could see it’s eyes, and- “My Signal!” She screeched, not knowing what else to say.

It was enough, he was through the doors and she slammed the button home, locking the doors and engaging the blast shields. Outside warning alarms began to play and the rockets engaged. Even through the shields it started getting unpleasantly hot. Danse was beside her and waiting as the shields came down, revealing an empty room. 

“Excellent work.” He said, very gently patting her shoulder. It struck her as strange for a moment, Vera remembered far too many occurrences of getting nearly bowled over by idiots in their armor. This guy was delicate and piloted his armor in a very controlled way.

Another thought for another day. “Hey, thanks for following my lead. It’s nice having people not fight me on my plans.”

Danse tipped his head and Vera suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing his helmet: She wondered what expression was on his face. “Your points were solid and now proven. With what the exhaust did to the synths it clearly would have done the same to me.” There were synth puddles on the ground. Kinda gross.

There was one more big fight as they tracked down the long distance transmitter, but Danse seemed to trust in her more after that show with the rocket. She’d snagged a weapon from a derelict Synth and moved back into range, letting him gather the Synths and sniping when she could. It’d been a while since she’d shot a laser pistol but you never really forgot.

Outside of Arcjet they stopped and exhaustion really started to hit. It was a shame because Danse popped off his helmet and graced her with a smile brilliant enough to shame God himself. “Excellent work, Civilian.” Again with the civilian, oy. “It is refreshing to fight with someone who follows orders.” His smile turns a bit sly, she’d said as much to him earlier.

Vera rapped the chest of his armor and smirked back. After that came an offer from him that she wasn’t expecting, induction into the Brotherhood of Steel. She turned him down as gently as she could, the only reason she’d been in the military before was to earn safe passage and protection for her brothers. She was in no mood to die for someone else’ cause when she had her own (And now Preston’s too). Danse looked a bit disappointed but he seemed to appreciate her frank manner.

She’s content to fall in line after him clutching the rifle he’d given her and sort of fall into autopilot. Vera must trip over her own feet a few times too many because Danse calls for a rest when he spots a dilapidated house. The sight of it just makes things worse, reminds her of the world that’s broken and dead and everyone’s gone-

But now isn’t the time for a breakdown, she pulls a bobby pin from her hair and tries to ignore the hair that comes with it. Danse watches her pick the lock to the basement and seems a bit impressed with her quick hands. She’s impressed she isn’t shaking. Vera does fall through the door once it opens and Danse moves to aid her. His gauntlets are so gentle as they help her up. Guy has a lot of practice manipulating his armor. He guided her very carefully to a chair without once hurting her.

He goes to secure the area and she pulled a bag out of her pack, rolling up a sleeve and trying to find a vein to stick the Rad-away into. But her hands are shaking in earnest now and she can’t find a damn vein. There’s a sound she doesn’t expect to hear: Danse’ armor opening up. She looks up in surprise to see him climbing out and kneeling by her side. God damn, that broadness wasn’t all T60, he was the thickest thing she’d seen so far in the commonwealth. Even Sturges was a bit more lanky than this guy. “Allow me to help.”

This close she can see flecks of lighter brown in his eyes and a few light scars under the commonwealth dirt on his face. “God knows I can’t hit anything smaller than an artery right now.” She watched him stick her with the needle and leaned back against the wall. “Preston says it’ll get easier, all I know is that it had better. If I have to deal with this shit for the rest of my life, I’m going to just go out with a blast.”

The pain got her a lot more than she thought it would, the dull persistent ache. She’d learn to live here if she could find Shaun, but if there was no sign of her baby and things didn’t get easier, she couldn’t just stick around for Preston and Sturges.

“Radiation sensitivity varies from person to person, though it can be raised through medical means. Perhaps you should try investing in a containment suit.” His verbose manner made a slight smirk tug on her lips, he was a lot more verbose than the jarheads she knew. Maybe this ‘Brotherhood of Steel’ required it’s members to be well read? That would be a nice change of pace.

“Preston tells me they cost more caps than I have, so the point’s moot.” She sighed and kept her eyes close, trying to rest up as the Rad-Away drained into her. Danse made a little grunt and got up, likely to explore the room. Vera almost dozed off before the sudden need to piss struck her as the Rad-Away did it’s job. She unpinned the bag from the wall and held it as high as she could, going to the little bathroom where she found Danse looking in the medicine cabinet. “Ugh, mind if I steal the room?”

“Of course.” He darted out of the room to give her privacy. The plumbing doesn’t work because of course it doesn’t, and the toilet reeks of old piss. Still, can’t be a chooser in this fucking world. She relieved herself and mourned the loss of soaps and hand sanitizers and running water as she left the room.

She’s welcomed by a surprise: Danse has rolled out her bedroll for her already. Vera carefully sat and dug through her pack, offering him some Radstag jerky. She wasn’t about to offer fruit leather even if the guy was sweet, she was saving that for herself. Danse shook his head but offered a familiar bottle to her. “No thank you. But you should have this.”

Fuckin’ Rad-X, hell yes. It was harder to find than Rad-Away, which apparently could be homebrewed from various plants. It was weird science that she didn’t understand but it worked. She took the bottle and crunched a few between her teeth, putting it in her pack and pulling out a spare Vault 111 canteen. “I insist you take this, then.”

They sit in silence and eventually Vera discarded the Rad-away bag. Idly she pulled the rags from her head and ran a hand through her hair, coming away with more loose strands than she’d like. Well, vanity could take a backseat to survival. It was a shame, really, she’d taken such pride in her appearance and how it could be used to manipulate herself. When she has to piss again she looks around, finding a pair of scissors and chopping her hair close to her skull.

With her sunken eyes, rad lesions, and lack of hair she looked like every other downtrodden commonwealth dreg she’d seen. It’s something she doesn’t like to think on, so she left the bathroom in a hurry and cocooned herself in her sleeping bag. “Wake me up for watch.” She ordered, voice thick with tears she refused to cry.

The floor’s cold and she’s got herself all upset. Danse sat on his own bedroll to her left and kept his eyes on the door. She started to scoot towards him slowly, like if she did so slow enough he wouldn’t notice her moving to his side. She’s not as stealthy as she wants to be, but Danse raised an arm up. She quickly scooted under his arm and pressed her face to his side. His jumpsuit smelled of sweat and whatever Danse’ normal body smell was, but it also smelled like Abraxo and some kind of soapy smell.

Down, girl. Don’t go getting thoughts just because you found a guy who was a revelation outside of his armor and smelled like he knew how to bathe. “M’always cold.” She mumbled, tucking her face back down into her sleeping bag before he could see the flush on her face.

“I’m generally warm. The power armor retains heat.” Yeah, she remembered that from her time spent in it. It’d always been nice, being unconditionally warm in it’s frame.

“At least the brotherhood teaches you how to bathe.” Vera mumbles, already halfway asleep. “I like Preston and Sturges but God Almighty, soap must be in short supply in this rad-festering hellhole.”

Danse laughed softly and Vera decided she needed to do more to make him laugh, because it was a nice sound. “Can you imagine the stench of forty men in power armor crammed into a small space? Hygiene is not optional in the Brotherhood.” Thank God for that. She’d known a few guys in the service who only bathed because of regulations. Couldn’t imagine how bad they’d smell if they didn’t have a choice.

She yawned and snuggled against his side, letting herself go to sleep. They could finish things tomorrow, she’d meet up with Preston, and eventually make her way to Diamond City


	4. Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For days gone by, my dear, for days gone by,  
> we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for days gone by.

Fenway Park.

Diamond City.

This had to be her favorite bit of post-war bullshittery that Vera’d found so far. She was kind of sad that Boston hadn’t mutated into, like, Boss-Town or something. Vera made her way through the streets of Diamond City and repeated what Mama Murphy had said in her vision. A bright heart in a dark alley.

“You have to be fucking shitting me.” Vera mumbled to herself when she turned down one of the labyrinth alleys and found, literally, a fluorescent heart sign. When she gets closer she sees a second sign, this one labeled ‘Valentine Detective Agency’.

Detective Valentine, now that’s a blast from the past. Volya had gotten picked up probably a dozen times by the long suffering detective. Poor Nicky V, always having to deal with Volya being an idiot. Her little twin had quite the crush on the detective, even after he was all engaged to Jenny Lands. Vera shook her head to clear out the cobwebs and memories; there was no point dwelling on the past. Nick Valentine was just as dead as her brothers and everyone else she’d ever known.

Maybe he wasn’t, though? When Vera walked into the detective agency she was met by a quietly upset woman, one Ellie Perkins. Apparently her boss was missing, and it turned out this Detective Valentine was also named Nick. There was a blooming of hope in her chest, maybe somehow Nicky V had survived the years as a ghoul? She’d seen one or two of the non-feral variety.

Just the idea that there’s someone out there that remembered the old times held an odd allure to Vera. Moreso that there’s someone out there that remembers her and the way she used to be. Perfect and poised and dressed to the nines, before she’d been able to fight her battles with tire irons and shotguns she’d had to fight them with tailored skirts and red lipstick.

Ellie directs her to Park Street Station and that falls in line with the prophecy from Mama Murphy, he’s in a deep dark place surrounded by folks with cruel intentions. The only part that has her a bit worried is the part about him not being what she thinks he is. That could be as simple as him not being a ghoulified Nicky V or something else entirely.

The station leads to an underground vault where Malone’s crew has dug itself in deep. She tries to shake away the discomfort of being in a vault and takes it out on the mobsters she finds. Fuck those guys and their bullshit, two hundred years later and idiots are still talking like they’re from the old gangster talkies? It wasn’t like Winter and his crew dressed like morons and made targets of themselves.

Eventually she hears a voice somewhere above her taunting Valentine, and she can’t stop the grin that spreads over her face as she hears Nicky V’s sarcastic response. He’d always had a quick tongue but nevermore so in the days following Jenny’s death. As she snuck up they starwell Nicky V managed to convince the guy that Skinny put him in his black book, causing Dino to run right into her path.

The guy stared at her for a moment before blurting out a surprised: “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here!”

“I’m not!” Vera replied brightly, unloading both barrels into the guy’s gut. Once he was on the ground she grabbed his weapon and moved over to the door that he’d been harassing Nicky V through.

The Detective stood in the middle of the room, backlit by lights and hard to see. “Hey, you. I don't know who you are, but we got three minutes before ole' muscles-for-brains comes back. Get this door open!”

“Got it!” Vera called in, giving him a thumbs up. She moved to the terminal and had it cracked in a few moments, the door to the overseer’s office swooshing open dramatically. She holstered her weapon as she walked in, eager to see the detective.

It’s weird, she’s never seen a ghoul with glowing eyes before. And when Nicky V lights up his cigarette and waves his hand in the air the hand’s skeletal. Too thin for even ghouls. “Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario. Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?” With that he stepped closer and she could see, literally see, right into his face to the metal frame beneath. His skin is ashen gray, there’s nothing of handsome Nicky V there but his voice.

“Holy shit, you’re a synth.” Vera said in awe, too shocked to even reach for her shotgun. The only time she’d seen the robots was back at Arcjet. And if he was like the robots in Arcjet...

The Synth shuffled it’s feet and looked up at her from under the brim of it’s hat with a little wry smile. “Hope that's not going to be a problem, because there's not much I can do about it, if it is.”

Vera took a few more cautious steps forward towards it, curiosity beating out self preservation. It was amazing to see his eyes track her, the artificial skin stretching to show off emotions on the face. He was similar to the Synths she’d shot before, but so much more advanced. “Hey, as long as you don’t try to pump me full of laser beams I won’t have a problem.”

Now that the initial shock had worn off she felt disappointed. Mama had been right again, though. He wasn’t the man she thought he’d be. Still, the synth is interesting. “Now since you know about me, why don't you return the favor. What brought you out all this way?”

“My son Shaun is missing. He was kidnapped, but I don't know who took him, or where they went.” Vera worried at the hem of her shirt with her hands, picking at a few loose threads. She hated repeating this over and over, reminding herself that her precious boy was gone.

The Synth’s ‘eyebrows’ raise up and he looks instantly sympathetic to her plight. “A missing kid, huh? Well, you came to the right man. If not the right place.” Valentine took a few cautious steps towards her and very slowly reached out to squeeze her shoulder. Vera automatically reached up to pat his hand and marveled at how odd the ‘skin’ felt.

After that they dashed through the vault, dispatching mobsters and running up stairs. Valentine warns her before they elave the vault about fat footsteps, and the gangster and his crew are indeed waiting for them outside. Valentine, Malone, and Darla get into a bit of an argument and she stays out of it until Darla snarls in her direction.

“Yenno, I don’t have time for this.” Vera mumbled, thinking back to what Mama’d said. “Remember the Quarry and Lilly June on the rocks"

It has the intended effect and Malone lets the pair of them pass by despite Darla’s protests. There’s an emergency hatch not far from the entrance from the vault and they use that to climb to the surface. Once they’re up top Valentine lights another cigarette and turned towards her. His brows furrowed again and he reached out to steady her as Vera wobbled on her feet a bit. “You okay, doll?”

She was pretty fucking far from okay, but there was no use snapping at the detective. “Just tired.” She mumbled.

Valentine’s yellow eyes dart over her face for a moment before he pulls back and surveys the area. “C’mon, there’s a few buildings we can hole up in for a bit and get you some rest.” He leads the way, dispatching a few mutated dogs before entering a ruined apartment building. They go up a few flights to find a room with a door that’ll still lock.

She’s used to robots fussing over her with Codsworth and Mother’s handy Percy growing up. Still, she’s never had one this human and advanced literally mother henning her. Valentine dug through her bag after he sat her on the couch, pulling out her canteen and food supplies. He hands her both and before she can move far he delicately twists her wrist so he can look at the screen of her pip-boy. Valentine hummed under his breath and let her be.

“Never expected to get taken care of by a Synth.” Vera said through mouthfuls of fruit leather and jerky. “Only ones I’ve seen have tried filling me full of holes.”

“Yeah, well.” Valentine grimaced and gingerly sat down on the other end of the couch. “I’ve got a million or so brothers from the Institute and they’re all badly behaved.”

The water and food were helping her shakes, Vera honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d slowed down to eat. Without Preston hovering over her shoulders basic needs were easy to ignore. Now that her head wasn’t swimming it was easier to get a good look at Valentine. “Hey, weird question. Can I touch you?”

Valentine had been reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes but at her words he fumbled them onto the floor. “I, ah, sure.” He blinked and looked a bit surprised at her request.

“Awesome.” Vera scooted across the couch, one last piece of radstag jerky in her mouth. She reached for his skeletal hand and very gently turned it over, carefully bending the joints and marveling at their function. “I don’t get it. You’re post war for sure, but you’re leagues farther advanced than anything General Atomics or Robco put out. Even after two hundred years of letting his VI evolve my Handy doesn’t have near your personality.”

The old Synth was watching her with narrowed eyes like she’d made herself into a puzzle to solve. “Well, all us old bots do what we can with what we’re given. S’far as I can tell the Institute’s a bit more advanced than good ol’ Robco. Don’t remember much of it there, first real memories that’re mine are of me waking up in the garbage heap.”

Well that was awful. Vera frowned and turned her attention up to Valentine’s face, touching the fake skin there carefully. “That’s stupid. You’re amazing, why would anyone throw you away?” Nick smiled a bit and Vera felt his skin move under her hands. It was odd, somewhat plasticy but still elastic enough to move.

His voice couldn’t be a coincidence, not when paired with his name. There had to be a connection somewhere. Vera took a deep breath and steeled herself for disappointment. “Hey, Nicky V, do you remember me?” She asked with her best smile.

Valentine’s brow furrows and he regarded her, one of his hands reaching up to touch her wrist. “You look kinda familiar, kid. The old memory banks are a bit fuzzy.”

“You arrested my brother a few times.” Vera smiled through her disappointment, Valentine couldn’t help what he wasn’t. “We met at a party once too. I’m feeling better, we should head to Diamond City.”

He doesn’t question her more than that, just leads the way to Diamond City through the various alleys. Occasionally he would give her some advice on dealing with the surface. It was very sweet and well meaning. Once they got back into Diamond City Nick waved at the occasional guard as he headed back to the detective agency.

Ellie greeted them both with a warm hug and smacked at Nick a few times, telling him to be careful. After that she picked up her pad of paper and Nick bade her to sit down and she went over the entire awful thing. Running from the bombs, getting frozen in the vault, watching Nate get murdered and her baby stolen, waking up to a world that wasn’t hers.

They don’t doubt anything and eventually come up with an angle to investigate. It’s not much but it’s something to go on. Valentine looks especially pensive as she stands and turns to leave. Just before she hits the door he blurts out: “Medvedeva?”

That stopped her in her tracks. Vera steeled her heart and looked over her shoulder at Valentine. “That was my maiden name.” She confirmed softly. “After I married Nate it was Braun.”

“Nate Braun, he was a lawyer. Trying to help us nail down Winter.” Valentine said all in a rush. “You- Nick did arrest your brother. Volya, kept findin’ him drunk in a ditch.”

Ellie’s looking between Vera and Nick, gently touching his shoulder. “Nick? You all right?”

The detective patted her hand carefully, a grin brightening his face. “Yeah. See,” He explained to Vera as he leaned on the desk in front of him. “I ain’t the real Nick Valentine, but after things went down with his Jenny he went to the CIT and got a brain scan. The Institute packed those scans into my dome here. I don’t remember everything, but sometimes I get these flashes.”

Vera walked around his desk and threw her arms around the synth, his arms automatically coming up to encircle her. He was warm under her embrace, she could feel a humming coming from his chest and felt him breathing. Synths were fucking amazing. “Feel pretty damn real to me, Nicky V.” She teased lightly, rapping a fist against his back. “I’m just glad someone else can remember stuff with me.”

“Heh.” Nick grinned at her and pushed the top of his fedora up a bit. His embrace lightened a bit, like he wanted her to know she could escape at any time. Well, fuck that. Vera’d started this hug and she was gonna keep on hugging. He might be made of hard metal and somewhat soft plastic, but he was warm and slightly cuddle-able. “Y’know there ain’t a single decent place to get coffee in this damn city?”

“Christ, don’t get me started on the lack of Slocum’s. I swear I’d murder for a piping hot cup and a few doughnuts most days.” Vera laughed and these memories don’t hurt. “I’ve got a few coffee plants up in the hydroponics at vault 111 though, so if you ever want a decent cup we can head north.”

“No foolin’? Well, I bet I can get Ellie to bake you some doughnuts. Don’t eat much, but I can take in liquids and taste ‘em.” Nick grinned down at her and Vera laughed, pressing her face against his chest.

“I’m a pretty good baker.” Ellie agreed and she sounded amused. Vera peeked away from Nick’s chest and Ellie was grinning at the pair of them. “And if you get me coffee I’ll make whatever you want.”

“It’s a deal.” She promised, something warm welling up in her heart. The future wasn’t so bad.

\---

_“All I’m sayin, Nicky V, is that you’d get a lot more poon if you didn’t have that stick crammed up yer ass.”_

_“And I’m sayin’ that ya’d get arrested a whole hell of a lot less if you could hold your liquor, Medvedev.”_

_The kid was freshly eighteen and even more freshly drunk, grinning up at Detective Nicholas Valentine with a shit eating grin from his place in the gutter. He sported an impressive black eye on his pale skin and a cocky grin showing off a missing tooth. Looks like the kid had followed his usual method of getting drunk, getting in a fight, and getting arrested._

_Valentine hauled him up and cuffed him, dragging him back to the patrol car. “Y’know I’m homicide, right? Ain’t got time to haul rich kids in.” Volya ducked his head in a practiced fashion and climbed into the car. “Half tempted to let you sit for a bit before callin’ yer brother.”_

_Volya laughed and slouched down in the seat, smiling up at Nick without a care in the world. “You won’t do that. I’m too pretty to last in jail.”_

_The kid sobers up a bit on the ride to the station like he always does. That confidant smirk falls from his face and he looks like the idiot kid he is. Nick had picked up Volya probably six or seven times now in the past few years and every interaction went the same way: He hauled the kid in, made his report, called his parents who never showed up, and a brute of a man would show up to bail the kid out and gently scold him. Within weeks the record was wiped off because the kid came from money._

_Nick supposed he should be glad that the kid was only abusing his family’s reach because he was a drunk and not a rapist or a murder, but seeing injustice go unpunished rankled him despite the cause._

_Just like every other time he tossed the kid in a cell, made his report, and called the next of kin. That, however, ended the usual conversation. A soft and feminine voice answered when he called this time. “Medvedev residence, how may I direct your call?”_

_“Ah... Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve got Volya Medvedev in police custody. He was-”_

_“His usual I assume? I apologize that you have to make this call. Please hold him and I’ll be there as soon as I can get a cab. How much is bail this time?”_

_He told her and she politely said her goodbyes. Nick leaned back on his chair and peered into the cell. “You got a sister to go with that Goliath brother, or did I finally talk to your mother?”_

_“What.” That stirs some emotion from the boy who’d been softly humming as he lay on his cell floor. “What did she- oh shit. Genya’s out of town.” Well, that was different. Kid looked panicked._

_Nick can tell when she enters the station because things go quieter when people get a look at her. Hell, he sits up a little straighter. Gotta be a sister because she’s too young to be his mother, and looks so much like the shithead that she can’t be his dad’s trophy wife._

_She looks like something out of a magazine as she floats towards Nick, looking the kind of flawless you only see in the young upper class girls with too much time and money. The dress she wears has to cost more than he makes in a month, form fitted around her curves with a skirt that came just slightly above the knee. Girl’s got enough pearls to make a jewlery counter jealous and carried a little clutch purse in her gloved hands._

_She’s got the same coloration as her brother: blonde hair so light it looked white under the station’s florescent lighting, equally pale skin with a smattering of freckles, eyes so blue that they didn’t look real. Her lips are a sinful red that smirk when she gets close enough to extend one gloved hand towards him. “Detective Valentine, I presume?” Hell, even her voice is something to notice, all poised and polished with a note of that same sin from her red lipstick._

_“Miss Medvedev?” The young lady smiles demurely and nods her head. “All right, then.”_

_They do everything by the books and the bombshell dame doesn’t protest at all as she signs papers and pays the bail. “Would it be possible to speak with my brother a moment before you let him out of his cell?”_

_“Sure, miss.” The lockup is mostly empty, just one other drunk passed out. At the sight of his sister Volya’s moved to the rear of the cell, back against the wall and knees pulled to his chest._

_“Hey, Vee.” He raises his hand in a half-hearted wave at her as she stares through the bars._

_She sighs at the sight of him, softly rubbing at her temples. When she speaks this time, the poise and high class manner are gone. “You dense motherfucker. How hard is it to not get wasted and pick a fight with the biggest guy at the bar ‘cause you wanna fuck his girlfriend?”_

_Even Nick rears back a little at the vitrol in her voice, but Volya reacts with rage as he’s off his feet and charging the bars, swiping at her through them. “Don’t you fuckin’ judge me! I’ll fuck your girlfriend!”_

_“If I had a girlfriend I’d fuck her so sweet she’d never look at your sorry ass! Seriously, Vol, the fuck? Don’t see me sitting in a lockup ‘cause I can’t hold my liquor!”_

_“Considerin’ you’ve been a fuckin wino since we started takin’ communion! Guess one of us gotta take after Ma!”_

_At that Miss Medvedev drops her clutch and strangles the air. “Oooh, this is why you’re not out of that cell yet! Valentine ain’t gotta worry about you after this, I’m gonna kill you in your sleep!”_

_“Try it, bitch, I’ll put you in the ground!” Volya seethes, arms stretched through the bars at his sister._

_Nick coughs and both of them swivel their heads around to look at him. “I, ah, feel obligated to remind you that you’re in a police station and if either one of you turns up dead...”_

_The blink in near unison and start to snicker. Volya relaxes against the bars and Miss Medvedev picks up her clutch. “Awww, don’t worry Nicky V. Me and Vee always pick like this.”_

_“I’ve been dealing with him since the womb, Detective.” She smiles demurely at him as she tucks a curl behind her ear. “I thought it would be appropriate if I gave him the dressing down that Gennadiy never does. You can let him out now.”_

_Nick does with a bit of trepidation, but Volya just stumbles out of the cell and into her arms. She’s taller than him due to her heels and he just buries his face into her neck. Miss Medvedev sighs and pats his back. “Papa’s in town, Vol.”_

_“I know. Bet if we ask real nice Nicky will lock us up again.”_

_“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll take it this time, I need a new nose anyway.” She slipped a hand under his chin and pulled him away from her just enough to look him in the eye. “Gotta take care of my only baby brother.”_

_Volya’s face crumples and he hides his face against her again. “I’m so sorry. ‘Ra. M’so sorry. Dinn’t mean t’fuck up again.”_

_“I know, I know. I’ll take care of it.”_


End file.
